


Nok wah Praan

by Tyranidlord



Series: Sos do dov [7]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Forgotten Realms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Character Turned Into a Ghost, Child Death, Drow, Explicit Language, Laid to Rest (TES:V Skyrim Quest), Necromancy, Thu'um, Ustengrav, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-02 01:54:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14534139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tyranidlord/pseuds/Tyranidlord
Summary: “Expecting a battle are we?” Kaius muttered good naturedly in the housecarl’s direction.For a moment the jingle of the aventail covering both Lydia's nape and throat was the loudest sound in the wagon. “A darkness dwells over this settlement my Thane.”“Well… It is Morthal.”------------------With the winter snows melting and tasked with retrieving the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller from Ustengrav, Kaius, Sofia and Lydia find themselves in Morthal seeking work and coin for the supplies required for the journey.At the behest of Jarl Ravencrone, they soon find themselves investigating a suspicious housefire and uncovering a dark plot that threatens the town and all that live in it...





	1. Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> I had originally intended this to be a short story similar to my other works within this series. It seemed to have other ideas so I've broken it into mini chapters instead. 
> 
> Feedback will be greatly appreciated as this story is a little darker than my normal writing.

The mist clung close to the ground, covering the land in a blanket of chill and deadening all sound within. It rolled and heaved, swirling with clutching tendrils within its ethereal mass. What light managed to pierce the grey-clad depths left whispering beams that turned the air into the hints of rainbows. Peaceful and serene, it was broken only by the tiny movements within.

 Every few rotations the wagon’s axels groaned in protest while somehow managing to sound like the death throes of a terminally ill skeever. One in particular had been grinding upon Sofia’s nerves since they clambered into the wagon that morning and she was glad to see their destination appear through the haze.

 “Hey Kaius.” With some difficulty she managed to hook her legs over the bundle of carpet and the handful of chests that had been stacked up the back of the wagon and kick the figure lying on the other side. “Wake up. We’re here.”

 Laying as comfortably as he could manage with his pack jammed under his head as a pillow, a gauntleted hand flicked the hood covering his eyes away. “Where’s here?”

 “The end of the line.” Sarcasm dripped from every word as she giggled and gestured to the collection of buildings clustered between the foothills and the swamps. “Where do you think?”

 The darkened expression that he sent her direction was enough to wipe the smile off her face, even though she didn’t understand the reason for it. He was usually not one to take offense but her words had obviously brought up a memory he had obviously wished to remain buried.

 Sitting a still as a statue at the far end of the wagon the third figure sat near, but yet remained aloof from the two of them. Similarly dressed in a full suit of steel armour and wrapped in layers of furs to keep out the biting spring cold, Lydia gazed upon the town with eyes as hard as flint. Carefully and precisely she tested the sturdiness of her shield’s arm straps and pushed her helm tight onto her head.

 “Expecting a battle are we?” Kaius muttered good naturedly in the housecarl’s direction.

 For a moment the jingle of the aventail covering both her nape and throat was the loudest sound in the wagon. “A darkness dwells over this settlement my Thane.”

 “Well… It is Morthal.” Sofia had taken a disliking to the grim housecarl the moment Jarl Bulgruuf had placed her into Kaius’ service. Permanently on guard and never seeming to relax, Sofia had already developed the habit of verbally baiting her at every available opportunity.

 But there was no doubt that Lydia was correct in her assessment. Unlike Whiterun with its colour filled markets, streets awash with sound and children playing on every corner, Morthal was positively foreboding. The main roads slicing their way through the portions that weren’t built into the swamps were smoothed with moss and the hints of moisture, the only flowers that any of them could see growing were Nightshade and the rare few mountain flowers struggling for existence. For the most part the entire township was infested with creeping blooms of swamp lichen, and pustular pods of fungus that seemed to sprout like abscesses on diseased flesh.

 “Why would anyone willingly live here?” Sofia muttered just a little too loudly, cutting herself all too late and quickly stammering out an apology to the wagon’s driver.

 “No offence taken.” The rough beard growing on Bjorlam’s face twitched as he smiled and turned his head slightly. “It might not look like much, but Morthal has a lots to offer.”

 “Besides the smell of swamp gas and the scenic views of hundreds of kilometres of bogs and marshes?” Kaius chipped in. In the week’s journey from Whiterun both he and the wagon’s owner had gotten along well and a brief laugh was shared by the both of them.

 “It’s only eighty kilometres of marshlands. Seventy between here and Solitude as the Raven flies. It does grow on you though.”

 “Like moss I bet.” This time Sofia ensured that her voice didn’t travel any further than her lips.

 The jolting, jostling motion of the cart over a particularly rough piece of ground made them all jump and left more than one of them swearing.

 “Peat, pitch, alchemical ingredients, iron, lumber… Lots of cities in Skyrim rely heavily on what Morthal provides.” There was a brief wave of an arm as Bjorlam returned a greeting from one of the few people on the street. “And if it manages to get on a barge to Solitude then there’s no telling where in the Empire it may end up.”

 The three of them looked about at the winding streets and the creaking jetties and platforms stretching out over the shallow marshes. Stone foundations sunk deep into the sodden soil to provide secure footings for most of the buildings, but there were quite a number of them built onto solid soil on the water’s edges.

 “It is good to be home.” They heard their driver mutter to himself, and there was no mistaking the enormous grin that split his face as he laid eyes on a particular dwelling further into the maze of streets.

 With a creak and groan of protest from the wagon and its greased axels he pulled back on the reins of the snuffling draughthorse and pulled up outside the two story shack that was his home and business. Behind his wagon, a second pulled up close and a pair of tiny figures immediately ejected themselves from the front seat.

 Kaius jumped down with a muffled clank of metal under the layer of furs that he clad himself in. One shoulder was hidden under the empty-eyed head of a black wolf, and his torso was covered by the rest of the creature’s skinned remains. “Well, its nicer than Bravil at least.” He said, grinning broadly as the pair of children ran straight over to him and immediately attached themselves to his arms.

 “Logvorn! Bjanhilde! Would you leave the poor man alone for five minutes!”

 The grin on Kaius’ face didn’t fade as the children hung off his hands, kicking their feet up off the ground and squealing as he lifted them by curling his biceps. Their long-suffering mother could only sigh and shake her head at the sight of the scarred mercenary lifting the six and eight year olds to the chorus of _Again! Again!_

 “I do believe that these belong to you.” He said simply, walking over to their father with the two of them dangling off the ground.

 Clambering down from his seat at the front of the wagon, Bjorlam shook his head and dragged a travel bag from where it had sat by his side during the trip. “They are more their mother’s…”

 “Oh no!” Hafine retorted, shaking her head and leaving her braided ponytail flapping about. “You can blame your side of the family for their behaviour!”

 Placing the two children onto the ground they both scurried off inside their home as Hafine swung the door open. There was a discrepancy between their size and the thunderous footsteps they were somehow able to make, and within seconds Bjorlam’s wife had followed into the home, calling out to their children to stop running, to calm down, or to do _anything_ other than make her hair turn grey from stress.

 “Need any help unloading?”

 Bjorlam turned and met Kaius’ gaze for a moment before giving a grim smile and shaking his head. “I can handle a few boxes and personal possessions.” Grunting slightly, he did just that; lifting one of the chests off the back of the wagon and placing it on the ground. “You and your friends have done more than enough to help me and mine.”

 The soft giggle from Sofia as she shouldered her own pack from its place on the back of the wagon was not lost on any of them. “Those bandits’ certainty weren’t expecting to find themselves face to face with a living Dragonborn.”

 “Sofia.” Kaius said carefully and precisely. “Shut up.”

 The amused twinkle in his eye alleviated the coldness of his tone and she stuck her tongue out at him. “Shutting up.”

 “Seriously though,” Bjorlam continued, ignoring their exchange as he rummaged through another one of the chests that he pulled off his wagon. “We are grateful that you came along with us. Between the talk of dragons, skirmishing between the Imperials and Stormcloaks and now bandits everywhere… I think we were lucky to have you with us.”

 Tugging on some of the chest’s contents he managed to pry them loose and to Sofia’s delight he withdrew several glass bottles wrapped tightly in bundles of straw. “I don’t have much in the way of coin.” He said simply, handing a couple to both Kaius and Sofia. “But hopefully this goes a small way towards suitable payment.”

 “Oh this is the best kind of suitable.” Reading over the label and seeing the vintage under the mark of the Black-Briars Sofia’s eyes were positively gleaming with anticipation.

 “You have my thanks Bjorlam.” Both of the bottles that Kaius had been handed were carefully placed into his pack and there was a brief glance between him and Lydia as she shook her head at her own offering. “Any recommendations for a place to stay?”

 There was a nod. “The _Moorside_. Rooms aren’t too expensive and the mead isn’t watered down.” With the bottles that Lydia had refused to take, he gestured in the direction from where they had entered the town. “It’s about two blocks and to the right. Just head in the direction of the Jarl’s longhouse and you can’t miss it.”

 Pausing briefly to shake each other’s hands, Kaius lifted his pack off the age-worn cobblestones and slung it over a fur covered shoulder. A tiny face peered out of the darkened doorway with a face of youth and cheekiness and he spared a moment to smile back.

 “Can you at least wait until we find somewhere to sleep?” Striding past with a wave in the direction of the house, Kaius shook his head in amazement as Sofia was trying unsuccessfully to pry the wax stopper out of a bottle with her teeth.

 “Booze not drunk is booze wasted.” She replied, grimacing and picking a piece of dried wax out of her mouth.

 “Well, you might be willing to sleep in the gutter but I’m looking forward to a nice soft bed.” His laugh echoed briefly in the streets and unknown to each other, they all realised at the same time that the streets were overwhelming quiet.

 Drawing a dagger from its sheath as she turned to follow him, Sofia began digging at the stopper but stopped as Lydia brushed past. The flinty gaze was framed in the eye holes of the spectacle helm, the look of disgust warring with the mask of forced impassiveness that she habitually wore.

 “What?”

 “Isn’t it a little early to be drinking?” Lydia’s voice was a cold as a glacier and their shared distaste for each other was almost potent enough to make the air shimmer between them.

 “It’s evening somewhere.” The reply was as barbed as it was sarcastic. “You’re even worse than the guards.”

 The snort from the housecarl as she turned and followed Kaius as he made his way down the street made Sofia roll her eyes so hard she was surprised they didn’t fly out of her skull.

 “I mean why do the guards discourage drunken behaviour when they should be encouraging it?” she continued, following after them and walking as close as she could to Lydia in an attempt to make her uncomfortable. “A drunken person is a happy person.”

 The pop of the wax stopper was loud enough to make Lydia jump slightly and Sofia grinned victoriously. “And I’m going to be a _very_ happy person.” She said, feeling the warmth of the first mouthful of mead seeping into her belly.

 The Moorside Inn was typically Nordic; well built, sturdy and warm from the roaring hearth built into its centre. Tall walls and sloping ceiling with a single capped vent in the highest point allowed the smoke and haze from the fire to escape without letting the warmth escape and dozens of tables, chairs and stools were laid about the interior in a seemingly haphazard fashion. What it didn’t seem to contain was patrons, and as the trio entered they found themselves the centre of attention to the handful of people within.

 “Well… This looks inviting.” The bottle mead was already half drained as Sofia stepped in behind Kaius and peered around him. Other than a couple of guards, a towering orc somehow squeezed into a split sleeved doublet and the inn’s proprietor, the inn was entirely empty.

 “And with as much cheer as a temple of Arkay.” Kaius muttered, giving a rough smile to the collection of mail wearing guards and the Orc who seemed to be either attempting to play or strangle the lute he was holding.

 “Finally, someone comes in.” Placing down a couple of glasses she had been busying herself with, the owner of the Inn stepped around the carved stone bar and walked in their direction. “I’m Jonna. Let me know if there’s anything I can help you with.” Bitterness creeped into her voice as she regarded the mostly empty Inn. “I got nothing but time these days.”

 “Afternoon,” Politely returning the greeting, he looked between the orc and the guards as they returned to their own drinks. “We’re looking to stay a night or two. Possibly more.”

 There was no mistaking the relief on Jonna’s face as she moved over to them. “There ain’t much to offer, but if you wanna dry place to spend the nights, I’ll rent you a room.” She looked between Kaius, Sofia and Lydia and noted the way they all stood and the tenseness that was present between them. “Or maybe three…”

 “Sounds good to me.” With a single nod, Kaius turned and looking briefly at Lydia while reaching for one of the pouches he had at his belt.

 As he rummaged for coins, Lydia moved over to one of the larger tables, her eyes never ceasing in their movement and taking in the surroundings. Sofia was already through her first bottle of mead and puffed her cheeks out and blew loudly in the direction of the taller woman. In the past weeks, Sofia didn’t think that she had ever seen the housecarl relax for even a moment. She was always on guard and watching everything and everyone who came close to Kaius and several times she had left Sofia with the impression that a trained wardog would have been less alert.

 With their rooms paid for up front, Kaius, like his two companions quickly shed the layers of furs in the more comfortable temperature of the Inn. Spring may have broken winter’s grip on the lands but there were few places in Skyrim where the temperature would be pleasant. Hjaalmarch was not known to be overly habitable at the best of times and most of the locals, like Bjorlam and his family moved south in the winters before the mountain passes and roads were blocked by snowfall.

 “So what can I git you all?” Jonna asked as she made the small collection of copper and silver septims disappear into her pockets.

 “Mead.” Sofia immediately stated, despite working on the wax stopper of her second bottle with gusto while making a point to ignore Lydia’s dark expression.

 The spectacle helm thumped onto the top of the table as Lydia ran her fingers through the long braids that hung down the side of her face. With precise movements, she smoothed them back over the shaved portion of her skull that allowed her padded coif to sit snugly under her helm. “I’ll have a something to eat. Soup if possible.”

 “Mead is like soup.”

 Kaius made a long suffering sigh in Sofia’s direction and finished unbuckling his sword. With a rattling clunk it too was added to the collection of items on the table and they could all see Jonna’s eyes gazing upon the building collection of weaponry and armour on its surface.

 “Any roasts?” he said, the wooden bench creaking alarmingly as his armoured weight settled onto it.

 “Duck or venison?”

 “Duck sounds good to me.” He nodded his thanks to Jonna as she moved towards the rear of the inn after confirming what sort of soup Lydia wanted.

 “So, what’s the plan o’great and masterful hero?”

 A pair of daggers were added to the collection, and jolt of Lydia’s axe being leant up against the table was felt through the soles of their feet. As usual, she placed it where it was easily accessible at a moment’s notice. Sofia also saw how she had sat with her back to the wall, facing outwards where she could watch everyone and everything in the tavern at all times.

 “We gather supplies; enough for a few days’ journey at least and then head north.” Kaius said simply, looking about the room and wincing at how the Orc continued mangling whatever he was attempting to play.

 “To Ustengrav.” With a gloved finger, Lydia scratched at the side of her head, using the steel plate of the gauntlet to rub where her hair was slowly growing after being shaved a few days before.

 “Where you need to find the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller.” The second wax stopper popped out and Sofia immediately took a swig. “I had heard he was a little horny.”

 “That wasn’t the best joke the first time you said it.”

 The mead was already filling her with a warmth that couldn’t be matched by a warm hearth. “Yeah… Sorry. Even for me it’s a terrible one.”

 “We don’t have enough coin for any serious undertaking.” Lydia’s voice as always, was cold and devoid of emotion. Not for the first time Sofia sat staring at the housecarl, wondering whether she was some fiendishly clever dwemer automaton made to appear human.

 Sighing loudly, Kaius slumped somewhat and nodded. “True. I was hoping that there was going to be work here for us, but judging by the state of this place I doubt we’ll find much.”

 “I still don’t know why we didn’t do further contracts with the Companions before we left.” Leaning back in her chair, Sofia shrugged and began taking careful sips instead of mouthfuls from her bottle. “I mean; it’s not like they were having any trouble with contracts after everyone found out they had the Dragonborn with them.”

 As it always did, the mention of his unofficial honorific made Kaius wince. “They had jobs on offer but not many that we were able to do.”

 “Meaning Vilkas was still pissed with the way you put him on his arse.”

 “Well… Yes. In a way.”

 Snorting into her mead, Sofia giggled, feeling the alcohol starting to dig its warm fingers into her mind. “I don’t know what you did to piss Skjor off though.”

 “We had differences in our professional opinions.”

 Both Lydia and Sofia raised eyebrows at that. “And Aela?” she continued.

 “Same deal. They offered membership in the Circle.”

 The silence was deafening and Kaius looked up as Jonna appeared with a platter of food still steaming from the fire. Leaving a fresh bottle of Honningbrew for Sofia, Kaius’ duck and Lydia’s bowl of soup, they all sat quietly until she returned to behind the bar.

 Lydia for once seemed to share feelings with Sofia. “You refused such an honour my thane?”

 A leg was ripped from the body on the plate and teeth dug into the flesh. Chewing carefully and gathering his thoughts he glanced between the two of them before swallowing. “Yes. I was unable to take part in what they required of me.” A bone snapped as he ripped the drumstick away from the rest of the leg. “They are still discussing what to do.”

 The tone of his voice left a chill crawling its way up Sofia’s spine that no amount of fire or alcohol could remove. It was a tone she had heard several times over the previous months that they had travelled together, and one that only she knew the true meaning of. He was subtly letting Sofia know that whatever had happened, it had something to do with his true nature.

 “So now what? We go begging in the streets?”

 “Not really.” Leaning back on the bench he looked over to the bar where Jonna was refilling the local guard’s flagons with some potent, locally brewed ale. “Hey, Jonna. Is there any work going in town?”

 At the sound of his voice the orc stopped strumming on the lute momentarily, giving everyone’s ears a brief respite from the audial torture he was subjecting them to. The guards stopped their conversation as well, turning and looking at the trio with interest.

 Jonna’s expression was grave but she thought to herself momentarily as she continued providing the guards refills. There was no mistaking the way that her eyes briefly returned to the collection of weapons and armour that Kaius, Sofia and Lydia had piled on the table.

 “Not much for adventurers or mercenaries I’m afraid. Morthal is quiet.”

 “Business slow?”

 The comment made the guardsmen, Jonna and even the orc chuckle. “Slow? No, it just ain’t there at all. Few enough reasons to pass through Morthal before the war started, let alone all this talk of dragons. Now…?” The sigh this time was almost heart breaking. “Well, let’s just say the front door doesn’t get much use.”

 “Her back door must be getting all the attention instead.” What started as a giggle was cut off in mid breath as Kaius turned and gave her a withering stare that he usually reserved for supporters of the Thalmor.

 Sheepishly and with more than just mead reddening her cheeks, she ducked her head and looked away until he turned back to Jonna and the guards.

 “If you lot are really looking for work,” One of the guards said, spinning around on the bench he was seated on and rubbing at a shoulder clad in chainmail. “the Jarl might have something.”

 “A bounty?” there was no denying the sudden surge that flowed through Kaius at the potential for a fight.

 The bearded face shook. “Nah. A few weeks back there was a fire that burned down a house.”

 “Oi!” One of his comrades elbowed him in the ribs with a hissed warning. “It’s bad luck to talk about that place.”

 “Bugger off Sjarne you superstitious bastard.” The first guard shrugged off the hand of his fellow with a good natured elbow of his own. “The old Raven’s been looking for someone who isn’t as superstitious as this idiot. Be lookin’ for a fool if you ask me.”

 “The Raven?” the look of confusion was evident on Lydia’s face.

 “Our Jarl.” Jonna moved over and collected Sofia’s empty bottle. “Idgrod Ravencrone. See; a few weeks ago Hroggar’s house burned down. It was a real pity about his wife and kid.”

 Kaius’ interest was replaced with a darkness that Sofia had seen several times before, but only when Kaius had been deep and thought and didn’t think she was paying much attention. “They didn’t make it?”

 The expressions that the guards shared as they took careful mouthfuls of their flagons said more than what words could.

 “Especially in a town this size, a tragedy like this strikes everyone. It didn’t help that the screams woke up half the town. Most folk won’t go near it now for fear it’s cursed.”

 For a moment the mead released its growing grip on her mind and Sofia’s voice was soft. “How did the fire start?”

 “Hroggar claims it was a hearth fire. Some Folks say Hroggar started it himself.”

 “With his wife and child inside?” The steely edge of Kaius’ voice was growing stronger by the second and matched the blade resting on the table.

 “That’s what they say.”  The jug of ale threatened to spill as she shrugged. “See… he’s living with Alva now. That started the day after the fire.”

 “Alva is one fine piece of arse…” In the group of hold guards there was a muted snickering as they knocked flagons together.

 This time it was Jonna’s turn to provide a withering stare at her patrons and they quickly made apologies. “It ain’t right, movin’ in with a new love the day after your kin die like that.”

 “And of course it can’t be proven that he murdered them.” By now the edge in Kaius’ voice was sharp enough to cut through dragonscale and even Lydia, as inexperienced with her Thane as she was, knew exactly what he was thinking.

 “Aye.” Jonna moved over and pronounced her words extremely carefully, enunciating each word carefully with the meaning hidden, but not so hidden at the same time. “Our Jarl would sure like to know if he did though. _Might even pay to find out…_ ”

 She turned away, moving back towards the bar area to gain a further refill and the guardsmen shared a look with Kaius that needed no translation. Chewing on his lip and wiping grease and duck fat onto the sleeves of his chainmail hauberk he glanced between Lydia and Sofia.

 “Aw… Really?” Sofia whined.

 “Yes. Really.” He said. “And you might want to be sober when we meet the Jarl.”

 Eyeing off her third bottle she licked her lips in contemplation of the wide spectrum of what she considered _sober_. “I can’t make any promises.”

 A gauntleted fist swiped the bottle of mead from where it sat in front of her and his grin would have put an ice wraith to shame as he wriggled it in front of her. “Consider this bottle a payment for coming with me.”

 For a moment she wondered whether her expression had enough power to set him on fire. “Fine. Just because you have some fancy title doesn’t make me your servant. Remember that.”

 


	2. Ashes to Ashes

Within the hour the trio presented themselves in the flame-lit interior of the Highmoon Hall, feeling the sensation of eyes and watchful gazes of those few present. A handful of lesser nobles of Hjaalmarch were present with their various Housecarls and guards but for the most part they seemed content on ignoring the trio who had made their entry with little fanfare or announcement.

 “Good evening.” The shuffling figure looked over the three of them with little concern despite the way they were heavily armed and armoured. Compared to some of the others present in the Entry hall they were almost underdressed for protection. “If you’ve business with the jarl, I’d ask that you speak to me first.”

 “Good evening.” Kaius thumped his fist lightly over his heart with a deadened clank of metal and leather. “My name’s Kaius Desin.”

 “Thane of Whiterun Hold.” Lydia added automatically, ignoring the stifled sigh from Sofia as she turned and rolled her eyes at the housecarl.

 “Thane of Whiterun?” Well past his middling years, the elderly man lifted his head to look up at Kaius’ face and considered whether there was truth in the words. Age may have been taking a toll on his body but his eyes were still bright and calculating. “I greet you Thane Desin. I’m Aslfur Ravencrone; Steward of Morthal.”

 “My companions and I heard that the jarl may be offering work.” Kaius continued, giving a slight bow to the aged retainer and ensuring that the proper respects were given.

 “Ah.” A surprising amount of weight was added to that single word, and Aslfur gave them all another glance that was precisely taking their measure. “Not much in the way of mercenary work in Hjaalmarch, but my wife has said to send everyone to her anyway.”

 Motioning them to follow him, he turned and shuffled his way carefully past the few local Thanes quietly talking amongst themselves. Surprisingly they weren’t met with the usual sullen stares from the minor collection of nobility but with a mild interest instead. The northern holds of Skyrim were a harsh country, and those who lived in them mirrored their holdings and they had eyes well accustomed to identifying strength.

 The main hall was impressively large, the walls and support beams heavily decorated with innumerable carvings in both the stone and the wood. Even the floors, long worn smooth from centuries of feet still showed hints of the artwork depicting the long history of Morthal.

 But it was surprisingly empty, devoid of most ornamentation that seemed to be part of most halls of the other lords of Skyrim. A single throne sat on pair of steps faced towards the entrance with the hearth occupying the space between it and the doors. There were no trophies, no statues, armour stands or weapon ranks other than the three crossed swords and shield arranged on the wall behind the throne. If anything, this particular longhouse was extremely spartan and yet more of a home than a symbol of authority.

 Standing near the fire, Jarl Idgrod Ravencrone turned her head slightly towards the doors as Aslfur pushed them open and allowed the trio to enter. At the sight of their armoured forms, the hulking brute dressed in fur lined plate twitched and lifted himself from the wall, mutually staring at Lydia as the two bodyguards immediately sized each other up.

 In the glowing embers of the fire and the flicking shadows it cast, the haggard and drawn expression on the Jarl’s face may have passed for recognition if only for a moment. Years of rule had bent her spine and much like the fur lined cloak and robes she wore, the authority wrapped itself tightly to her flesh.

 “So… Life has brought you to Morthal, and to me.” she said, the voice crackling and rough from years living within building permanently filling with hearth smoke. “What purpose this serves, we will no doubt see.”

 Kaius lowered his gaze for a moment in respect and ignored the way Sofia was looking at him with the slight trace of unease at not only the Jarl’s simple rhyme but the way she had stiffened when Kaius had first walked through her doors. Judging by the way that Lydia held herself, she too was feeling the same tickle of unease.

 “Thane Kaius Desin of Whiterun, my Jarl.” Aslfur said formally, presenting them with a wave of his hands. “and his companions.”

 There was a solid clank of metal on metal as Lydia rapped her knuckles on her breastplate. “Lydia Storm-sword.”

 “Sofia Mojaldottir.”

 Jarl Ravencrone turned her gaze on each of them as they announced themselves in turn, watching Kaius as he stood facing her with a back as straight as an oak. “Welcome.”

 “Jarl Ravencrone,” At the sound of Kaius’ voice she focussed her attention on him and in the light of the fire they could see the way her eyes seemed to glow with more than just amusement. “We hear that you want someone to look into a recent fire.”

 The years had taken their toll on her and the gradual clouding of her eyes was even more evident as they narrowed. “Hroggar’s house fire.” It was a statement rather than a question and she turned and began moving very carefully towards her throne.

 With supreme willpower, Aslfur stood at their sides without a single twitching muscle despite the desire to help his wife ease herself into the throne. Very carefully she leaned back, obviously feeling the twinges of ancient bones and the creeping sensation of arthritis in her joints. “He lost his wife and daughter in the blaze.”

 Before Sofia could even open her mouth, Kaius had moved forward very slightly with a tiny gesture directed at her. “That’s also what we heard.”

 Seated in her throne, the Jarl had to raise her head slightly to meet Kaius’ deadpan expression that did little to hide the seriousness of his tone. “My people believe it to be cursed now. Who am I to gainsay them?”

 “What happened?”

 A shrug, almost too small to be noticed shifted the furs covering the Jarl’s shoulders. “Hroggar blames his wife for spilling bear fat in the fire.” Darkness entered her voice, a tone shared by many of similar rank and power that could spell the end of a life with a gesture or order for execution. “Many folk think he set the fire himself.”

 Completely ignoring Kaius, Sofia couldn’t help but speak what they and everyone else in the town must have been thinking since the fire. “Why would he do that to his own family?”

 Amusement raised the wrinkled expression that had been sour with distaste and the eyes, slowly clouding with cataracts fixated themselves on Sofia. “ _Lust_ , can make a man do the unthinkable. The ashes were still warm when he pledged himself to Alva.”

 Looking between the Jarl, her husband and her bodyguard, Kaius scowled at the thought while grinding his teeth. “Why haven’t you arrested him?”

 Jarl Ravencrone snorted, waving a hand in the direction of the doors and the town beyond. “On rumour and gossip? _No_.” she leaned forward ever so slightly, pressing her gnarled hands together and pointing them directly at his heart. “But you, _strangers_ , might find the truth for us.”

 “Hasn’t the guard conducted an investigation?”

 “ _Hah_.” She paused for a moment as phlegm caught in the back of her throat from the snicker of amusement. “My guards wouldn’t be able to find their own arses with two hands and map.” Leaning back heavily she waved off the sudden advance from her bodyguard and husband as they made to go to her assistance. “All the bright ones have been conscripted by General Tullis and the most of the others have left to join the Stormcloaks.”

 Again, the trio felt a sudden chill as she looked over them with a gaze that was penetrating in its intensity. There was no doubt that she was laughing internally at some secret that only she knew. “Besides, it is not eyes that reveal another’s true nature. _It is the heart_.”

 “What would you have us do?”

 “Sift through the ashes that others are too fearful to touch. See what they tell you. Should you prove him guilty or innocent, I will reward you.”

 “Your will, Jarl Ravencrone.” Kaius said carefully, making a simple bow of respect and waiting for Sofia and Lydia to turn before he did so.

 “You are quite lively for a dead man.” There was a distinct tone of amusement running through the Jarl’s voice but the almost pneumonic chuckle was somehow terrifying. “I suppose that’s what comes of being Dragon _blood_ , rather than Dragon _born_ …”

 Both Lydia and Sofia stood in amazement as they saw Kaius shocked for the very first time. For several moments he could only stand there, eyes opened and blinking while openly gaping at the smiling Jarl. Lacking a response, he simply bowed again, deeper this time and moved with an unseemly haste towards the doors.

 “What was that?” Hissed Sofia, seeing the stilted way that Kaius was walking.

 Aslfur, performing his duty and escorting them back to the entry looked as pleased as they did at his wife’s passing comments. “Jarl Ravencrone and her lineage have a _connection_.” He said quickly and they got the feeling that it was a response that he had learned by rote. “The pools of magicka runs deep in their veins. She would tell you that the Divines reveal things to her, but there are some who are not so sure.”

 “She knew that you were Dragonborn.” Sofia turned and saw the way that Kaius seemed uneasy. It was not at the way the Jarl had known of his ‘title’, but rather the exact words she had said.

 Lydia shook her head in such a way that it left the collection of braids swinging in the evening chill. “Half of Skyrim knows that the Thane slew the Wyrm of Whiterun.”

 Sofia wasn’t so sure, and in fact the more she stared at Kaius’ expression she knew that both of them realised that there was much more meaning to the words than what the Housecarl realised.

 Bidding their farewell to the steward, and gaining directions to the burned down building from the Longhouse’s guards they moved quickly through the streets. Kaius in particular seemed hell-bent on reaching the house as quickly as possible and for once both Lydia and Sofia shared the same concern for him.

 Where Whiterun was expansive and home to tens of thousands throughout the year, and Solitude was comparatively teeming with men and mer alike, Morthal was a hamlet. Only a few thousand lived within the narrow buildings or in the vicinity of Highmoon Hall, and the rest lived further away either on the edges of the marshes or in the smaller settlements dotted about the Hold. In a township of those seeking a quiet life in a quiet place it was still overly noticeable the lack of noise or habitation in one specific street.

 “Well, when they said it had burned down they meant it.”

 Kaius stood on the lower steps of the tiny house set between a handful of its kin, nodding his agreement for Sofia’s statement. Only the lower portions of the walls still remained standing and only from their sturdy construction and the fact that they were mostly made of stone. Both the floors and the foundation itself were nothing more than blackened stones sitting out of the ground like gravestones in a sea of ash.

 “It’s not surprising that the guards didn’t find much.” Coals and the burnt remnants of furniture, support beams and the roof crunched underfoot as the three of them moved into the ruin. The door itself had fallen as the flames had eaten through the wooden frame and released the hinges but the heavy post leaning across the doorway left them feeling extremely uncomfortable as they ducked beneath it. Sometime shortly after the fire had started the beam had collapsed and taken most of the roof with it, blocking the door and keeping it firmly shut.

 “Just what are we looking for?” Sofia stepped over some unrecognisable collection of wood burnt into a pile of charcoal. It could have been part of the roof, a table or even an entire cupboard for all she knew.

 “Anything that looks suspicious.”

 Sighing loudly, she made a point of staring at Kaius as he carefully picked his way through the ashes with a hunter’s grace. “The building burns down with his kin inside and immediately shacks up with the local floozy? This whole situation is suspicious.”

 “Yeah… But there’s a lot that the guard missed.”

 “Oh? Like what?”

 Carefully, with a gloved finger he tapped on the outer wall before wiping it down the stonework. “The roof was thatched and the outer layer was coated in tar. Normal building standards for Skyrim all things considered.” He motioned to the other houses nearby whose roofs had their tiles coated in light layer of tar to keep out the moisture and cold.

 “No wonder the place burned down.”

 “That’s not the interesting part.” Grimly, he looked at the powder on his gloves and rubbed his fingers together in thought. “The pitch on the roof was flash burned and it takes a _lot_ of heat to burn pitch quickly. That’s why the Legion uses it in siege warfare so much.”

 “So… not started by spilling bear fat on a fire?”

 The expression he gave her told her all that she needed to know, and the glance that he stared with Lydia who was standing near the ruined doorway was as dark as the gathering clouds that heralded the approaching night.

 The house itself was small in comparison to those of Whiterun and the cities of Skyrim, but it had been built for comfort. Three rooms, possibly bedrooms led off a small hallway from the living and dining area and in a far corner near where the stone fireplace still stood proudly a cavernous hole yawned as an entrance to the basement and larder. All in all, it was two dozen metres wide, half as deep and would have been a nice home for a small family.

 Moving about, head and eyes constantly shifting and studying the details Kaius moved from one end of the building to the other while Sofia and Lydia contented themselves watching. Neither of them seemed to be able to notice or see anything as interesting as what Kaius did as he sifted through the ashes and moved some of the ruins aside in his travels.

 As he moved back into the living room dusting his gloves on his armoured greaves, Lydia nodded in her usual formal manner. “Found anything interesting my Thane?”

 “In a manner of speaking.” Stomping through the ashes he moved directly over to the hearth and stood over it, looking down over the blacken fireplace and the crumbling chimney that had fallen in the heat.

 Gesturing, softly chanting to himself his fingers twisted almost of their own accord and a ball of light sparked into existence in the palm of his hand. The tiny ball of magelight flickered softly and lit up the deepening shadows of the encroaching evening in sharp blue hues, highlighting Kaius’ armoured form in stark contrast as he pressed it onto the stonework.

 “This was no ordinary fire.”

 Sofia moved over to him, wincing and trying not to show the tension she felt being so close to magicka. “How can you tell?”

 “It burned too quickly and it was far too hot.” There was a clunk of his armoured knees as he knelt down at the fireplace before scraping his gloves through the ashes.

 Clearing as much as he could from the rough stone floor and the raised blocks around the fire pit, he motioned for Sofia and Lydia to step back slightly. With extreme care he willed himself to stillness, visibly controlling his breathing before whispering a single word.

 “ ** _Fus._** ”

 Even whispered, and with Sofia and Lydia standing behind the speaker, the force of the Thu’um was enough to feel like a slap. Both women tensed as the word blew away the last of the ash in front of Kaius’ kneeling form and filled the air with the taste of charcoal.

 “Isn’t that misusing your mystical, godly powers?” Coughing and spluttering, Sofia injected as much sarcasm and annoyance into her voice while trying vainly to wave the billowing clouds of soot away from her face. Close nearby, Lydia lost her battle against the floating ash and began explosively sneezing with almost as much power as Kaius’ shout.

 “ _If_ I’m the Dragonborn then how I utilise my powers is up to me.” He replied, with his own brand of bitter sarcasm. “But, you tell me what you think of _that_ …”

 Exposed by his clearing of the ash from his hands and the use of the Thu’um, both women could see what he had uncovered. Etched into the stonework was a series of curved lines roughly forming a circle, containing a handful of archaic appearing runes. The lines were only a millimetre or two deep and unless they were pointed out they would have been almost impossible to notice.

 “What is that?” Lydia asked carefully, kneeling down herself and running her gloved hands over the thin, tiny grooves.

 “That?” Clicking his tongue, Kaius rose to his feet and stared pointedly at the markings. “That is an activated fire rune.”

 Looking over it carefully, Sofia couldn’t help but agree. Her short time in the College of Winterhold hadn’t been long enough for any serious studies even if she had been inclined to do so. Tolfdir’s focus on safety meant that all students were taught identification of the various runes and their knowledge regularly tested. Too many students had been burnt, electrocuted, suffered frostbite to extremities or simply left paralysed on the floor from a result of practical joke or two. The rune had been magically cast onto the stone, but like most runes when it had activated the burst of energies had imprinted itself into the surface. In this case, the magical flames had bubbled and eroded the stonework almost imperceptibly.

 In front of them, the magelight dimmed and vanished in upon itself and Kaius gestured once again. This time her proximity made it impossible to shield herself from the stab of pain into the back of her skull or hide the way she winced from Kaius’ ever watchful eyes.

 Pressing the ball of light against the stonework he gave her an expression that she was unable to identify, mostly because it seemed to be a mixture of suspicion and the usual calculating one he wore when he was mulling something over in his mind. “Just how long have you been having headaches for anyway?”

 Sofia felt the surge of apprehension wash through her that somehow managed to drown the pressure in her mind from the nearby magelight. “Headaches? What headaches?”

 An eyebrow raised itself and he made a specific point of staring her in the eyes as he cast another magelight. This one he purposely held in the palm of his hand like an apple, watching the way that she squinted and involuntarily shied away from it.

 “Oh… _Those_ headaches.”

 The ball of light in his hand flickered and died with a single gesture and he stood silently for a moment, as if making his mind up on something. “That’s something we’re going to have to work on.”

 Sighing loudly and grinding his teeth he looked about the ruins of the house, ignoring the way that Sofia watched his every movement as she rubbed at her temple and the way Lydia looked distrustful at the use of magicka. “The only people who really know what happened are Hroggar and his family.” He stated flatly.

 Desperate to keep the topic away from her headaches and aversion to magicka, Sofia shrugged and took a couple of measured paces away from Kaius. “Well, we can’t ask his missus and kid. That’s for sure.”

 Seeing the expression on his face and feeling the invisible tug of ethereal energies as he carefully gestured in the air her guts clenched. “Can we?”

 “A woman and child were murdered here. A lot of this doesn’t sit well with me and the fact we have evidence of magicka being used has made things a lot more complicated.” The slow mesmeric gestures had both women’s full attention until he snapped his fingers closed into a fist. “Their spirits still linger here.”

 “Spirits?”

 There was the tiniest of nods, and Kaius blew out a massive breath, closing his eyes and concentrating. Sofia felt a chill that had nothing to do with the approaching darkness, a chill that was accompanied by the sudden, agonising punch of a migraine into the back of her skull.

 “ _Athiyk, d’l’elghinyrr, voen’llyl ussta lar’e_.” he breathed, both hands slowly twisting almost of their own accord. “ _Usstan quarth dos ulu ku’lam lu’tlu’guuana_.”

 The sensation of falling made Sofia squeak and the sudden drop in temperature from the spell leeching the energy from the air left their breaths fuming. Lydia staggered backwards with a snarled oath, her own hands making a gesture against her breastplate as a ward against evil and calling upon Stendarr’s benediction as she realised the purpose of Kaius’ spell.

 He ignored them both, breathing out carefully but this time his breath condensed into a cloud of vapour, growing and building impossibly larger as it spread through a majority of the ruin’s interior. For several long seconds they stood there, watching as he carefully opened his eyes and ceased the twisting motion of his hands.

 “ _W-Who’s there?_ ” called out a tiny voice from the depths of the mist that swirled around them. “ _Is that you father?_ ”

 There was no mistaking the way that Kaius flinched as though struck before he pulled his own emotions in check. The mist was fading quickly, but in its place a tiny figure remained.

 “Talo’s hairy nutsack Kaius!” Sofia spluttered, viably jumping and almost falling over a lump of burnt wood in her shock. “What the fuck!”

 Lydia staggered backwards, her face a mask of horror and she didn’t stop until the shield hanging over her back slammed into the exterior wall. She was staring, not blinking as she tried desperately to comprehend the sight before her.

 Kaius didn’t remove his eyes from the tiny spectre, giving a single sharp gesture at the both of them and growling wordlessly for them to be quiet.

 The ghost was of a young girl, not even old enough to have reached her tenth winter and she was looking about fearfully at the three of them. It was difficult to say who was the more frightened; the spirit or the two women.

 Carefully, and quietly, Kaius knelt down, lowering himself to the ghost’s height and giving her a warm smile. “Hello little one. Who are you?”

 “ _Helgi, but father says I’m not supposed to talk to strangers._ ” The look of confusion was painfully evident as she looked between him and the pale expressions of the two women. “ _Are you a stranger?_ ”

 Smiling further, Kaius carefully sat down in the ash, ignoring the way that it clung to his cloak, furs and armour. “No. I’m Kaius. I’m a friend.” A gloved hand motioned to the burnt out remains of the house. “Do you know what happened to your house?”

 Helgi looked around herself as though seeing it for the first time. Even of the tiniest of movements left her hair floating as though she was underwater. “ _The smoke woke me up. I was hot and I was scared… So I hid._ ”

 Floating across the floor she moved closer to Kaius, turning her head at how Sofia and Lydia shuffled slightly away. “ _Then it got cold and dark._ ”

 The silence was almost more painful than her appearance, and while they didn’t know it, both Sofia and Lydia were amazed at how Kaius was sitting with the ghost of the young girl less than a metre from him. Pain, deep and terrible was shredding his soul but he wasn’t letting any of it show to Helgi.

 “ _I’m not scared anymore._ ” She said proudly, bouncing as she sat down in front of Kaius. “ _But I am lonely. Will you play with me?_ ”

 There was no mistaking the sudden waver in his voice. He didn’t seem to need to force himself to smile honestly but he did have to force the emotion in his eyes with nothing more than sheer willpower. “If I do, will you tell me how the fire started?”

 Helgi nodded, her waifish face bobbing up and down with an enormous grin breaking out. “ _Okay! Let’s play… Hide and Seek! You find me, and I’ll tell you!_ ”

 Hesitating for a moment, her joy abruptly changed to fear and she twisted around, looking about the ruins and up into the darkening sky. “ _We have to wait for night-time though. The other one is playing too, and she can’t come out until then._ ”

 Lydia and Sofia shared an expression of unease that was even greater than that they felt at Kaius summoning the dead.

 “The other one?” With a voice as cold as the grave, Kaius furrowed his brow in wary expectation. “What do you mean?”

 There was no mistaking Helgi’s fear as she shook her head, twitching it back and forth and leaving strands of her hair floating in the otherworldly breeze. “ _I can’t tell you. She might hear me. She’s so close!_ ”

 Leaning in close she whispered directly into Kaius’ ear as he tilted his head closer. “ _If you can find me first, I can tell you._ ”

 “You have a deal Helgi.” There was no mistaking the smile on his face as he regarded the expression of excitement on the spectre’s face. “Where are we going to play?”

 She was quiet for a moment, casting her gaze quickly around the burnt out interior but still smiling. “ _The graveyard. After it gets dark. Don’t take too long to find me!_ ”

 Swirling like oily water, the coursing energies twisted and weaved around them as Kaius lessened his grip on the spell. Giggling and twirling away through the ruins of the home, Helgi’s spirit vanished into nothingness in a handful of steps leaving Kaius, Sofia and Lydia standing alone once more.

 Making her own short steps, Sofia stomped her way through the ash and burnt remains, shoving Kaius as hard as she could with both hands. “ _What the fuck_! Seriously! What the _fuck_ was that!”

 From his position on the ruined floor where she had pushed him back down, he looked up at Sofia and glanced between her and his housecarl hovering at her shoulder. “What?”

 “Um, the dead? Are you just going to rip the soul of a little girl out of the afterlife? Just like _that_?” the snap of her fingers nearly made them all jump but their gazes never wavered from each other.

 “Necromancy isn’t banned. Or at least it wasn’t the last I checked.” Staggering to his feet he began bushing the layers of soot and ash from his legs and back. “Besides, I didn’t summon her from Aetherius. As far as I can tell both her and possibly her mother’s spirits still reside here, trapped in the barriers between Nirn and Oblivion.”

 “Summoning the dead... It’s just not right.” Lydia said somehow managing to keep her voice cold and devoid of emotion.

 “Neither is burning down a house with a little girl and her mother inside.” A tinge of steel was in Kaius’ voice and for a moment both Lydia and Sofia were left wondering at the signs of emotion rising to the surface. It was unusual to say the least and outside of a fight he gave Lydia a run for her septims for being the most silent and foreboding warrior in Skyrim.

 Running his fingers through his hair and then realising that all he had done was rub ash into his scalp he sighed loudly. “Look, whatever happened here is not as simple as some arsehole deciding to move in with his new squeeze and get rid of his family. _That,”_ A finger stabbed in the direction of the fireplace and the engraved rune in the stonework. “shows that something else is going on and now we have something else to go on.”

 “By summoning a spirit of a little girl to play hide and seek with?”

 “That _spirit…_ ” his voice had dropped and the chill within it was as cold as the sea of ghosts. “Is trapped here. Unable to pass on until she is properly laid to rest. If we hadn’t come… If I hadn’t done what I just did, then there is a damn good chance that she and her mother would be stuck here until the ending of the world.”

 Both women stared at him and could sense the surging emotions lurking just beneath his stern exterior. It was beginning to make them both uncomfortable with more than just his actions.

 “It’s an hour or so until night properly falls. You both can come with me or meet me at the graveyard or go back to the tavern. It’s your choice. I’m going to go and see if there is a mage in this town and get an idea of the number of practitioners of destruction magicka in the area. Then I’m going to go find Helgi and find out just what the oblivion is going on here.”

 Sofia and Lydia shared a glance, both uncomfortable and unsure of what to do. Lydia especially seemed to be warring against her oath to serve as his Housecarl and her dual distaste for magicka and what he had done.

 After their continuing silence he shrugged. “You know where to find me.” He said, picking his way towards the door and leaving them standing there.

 “What the fuck just happened?” Sofia spluttered, seeing Lydia shrug her armoured shoulders while nervously tapping her fingers on the head of her axe.

 “Sofia, may I ask you a question?”

 Making her own way out of the ruin and ducking under the fallen beam in the doorway, she spared the housecarl a glance out of the corner of her eye. “Sure, I’m all ears.” There was a moment’s pause as she hesitated. “Well, not literally of course.”

 “Just how much do you know about the Thane?”

 The honesty struck home as they both wandered down the short steps and the tiny footpath onto the street. Several times Sofia opened and closed her mouth, thinking and yet unable to transform the thoughts into words.

 Seeing the way she was uncharacteristically tongue tied, Lydia moved alongside her, instinctively keeping in step with the smaller woman. Kaius had already stepped around the street corner two building in front of them and without any other ideas they wandered vaguely after him.

 “You’ve been travelling with him for what? Six months now?”

 “More or less.” Sofia replied, chewing her lip. “We met last Autumn just before the snows started.”

 “Since he killed that dragon.”

 “A month or so before that, but yes.” The flint like eyes of the housecarl bored into the side of Sofia’s skull. “Look, I know what you are asking but I don’t have any answers. We met in the Whiterun stables, he gave me some clothes to stop me from being arrested… _Again._ We did a few jobs around town, ran an errand for Farengar and the next minute I’m watching him go toe-to-toe with this great big lizard that killed two dozen of the guards we were with. But before that? Nope, I don’t have a clue.”

 Trying desperately to keep her true thoughts hidden, she stole a glance at Lydia who scratched idly at the shaved portion of her skull. It was something of an unspoken agreement between herself and Kaius about not revealing his true nature to anyone, and there were other things about him that no one else knew. The night they ended up sharing drinks with Sanguine was close to the top of the list of things she couldn’t tell another soul about.

 Keeping secrets had never been something she had ever been good at. In fact, keeping her mouth shut was almost an impossibility but she had somehow managed it so far in this case.

 “So you know nothing of his previous life? No family? No friends? No home? No explanation on what he was doing in Skyrim?”

 Their pace slowed. Kaius had faded into the streets and they lost sight of him shortly after he had spoken to one of the locals. Whatever he had asked had left the man looking a little wary of the armoured stranger as he made a pointed gesture and provided a very specific set of directions.

 “He has me as a friend. But, everyone needs someone like me.” Again, those cold eyes burned a hole in her skull and the unease continued building. Keeping secrets was _hard._ “I know that he was at Helgen and that despite what everyone says, so was Ulfric and a whole buncha Stormcloaks when a dragon burned it to the ground.”

 “Is he a Stormcloak? I’ve seen the…” Lydia’s voice trailed off and she lightly tapped a gauntleted hand against her chest.

 Thinking for a moment, Sofia went to shake her head before thinking better of it and shrugged instead. “No… At least I don’t think so. He’s got that Legion tattoo under those scars of his, but he never takes that amulet off.” Heat rushed to her face as she remembered that trip to Bleak Falls Barrow. After he had slaughtered that detachment of elves they had stopped alongside a stream for him to wash away the blood he was drenched in. Despite her best attempts she had managed to make things extremely awkward by walking down thinking he had finished bathing when he most definitely _hadn’t_.

 Night was fast approaching and as they walked in the direction of the Tavern the handful of guards and residents were lighting and hanging lanterns outside their doors. The guards were changing shifts and lighting the handful of tiny braziers and lanterns hanging from tall poles along the streets, illuminating them in the warm flickering glow.

 “So you really don’t know.”

 There was something in Lydia’s tone that made Sofia twist and her anger bite. “Look, miss _all-high-and-mighty_. Some people don’t like talking about their past, and especially don’t like asking others about theirs. So he’s all mysterious and neither of us know a damn thing about him but he’s looked out for me. Which is more than I can say about most people.”

 Sofia saw the way that Lydia had shied back a little and her mood softened a little. She hadn’t intended putting such acid into her tone but it seemed that she hadn’t lost her touch in angering people.

 “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it specifically.”

 The polished metal breastplate covering Lydia’s chest raised and lowered visibly as she took a deep breath and released it. “He is a capable warrior.”

 “Well _duh._ Anyone who punches on with a dragon and eats its soul is a bit of a hard arse.”

 Looking over at Lydia she saw something in her expression that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. They continued on in silence until the end of the street, standing on the corner of the Moorside Inn and seeing how much of the town was wreathed in darkness.

 “Wait. Do you mean that there is something wrong with him being able to handle himself in a fight?”

 The stare continued, but there was an obvious hint of something further in the mask of an expression the housecarl wore. Something in her mind _clicked_ and Sofia sucked in her cheeks in thought.

 “That is a problem for you… Isn’t it?”

 Lydia shrugged, and it struck Sofia that it was the most expressive action she had ever seen the dour woman perform.

 “I’m his housecarl.” Her thick accent turned the word into a growled _húskarl_. “I am oath-sworn to carry his burdens whether they be _metaphic-_ _metamor-_ …” she shook her head in frustration and brushed her braids out of her eyes. “Be real or not.”

 “So you don’t understand how you are meant to protect someone who is in no need for protection.”

 The nod was almost imperceptible.

 “And I’m guessing you have trained you entire life to be bodyguard to some thane or another.”

 This nod was more distinct but Lydia didn’t turn to look at her. “Most of my entire life, as soon as I was able to lift a weapon I have trained. As housecarl I am sworn to his service, to guard him and all he owns with my life. I was honoured to have been chosen by Jarl Bulgruuf to serve the Dragonborn. But to find out that my entire life has been wasted and that my skills I have spent in preparation to serve someone who utterly outmatches everyone else in their prowess? I… I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

 “Hey.” the dulled clank of Sofia’s elbow into Lydia’s armoured ribs was audible and for a second or two she was left rubbing at the limb. Lydia had a penchant for wearing every bit of armour she could. “Your life and whatnot hasn’t been a waste. You were chosen right? Out of everyone else, _you_ were the one who old Gruffy chose as being the _closest_ in skill and ability to a living legend! Me? I got drunk, lost my clothes and woke up in a puddle of horsepiss after he dropped his pack on me. You at least will have a mention when they sing songs about him in the years to come.”

 “You’ve been by his side all this time though. You were there when he fought the dragon. You climbed the 7,000 steps together.”

 “Ugh, don’t remind me.” Her shiver was exaggerated and she found herself unconsciously scratching at certain parts of herself. “I was chafed for a _month_ after I got back down that damn mountain. I’m not even sure why I followed him in the first place.”

 “To see the Greybeards?” Lydia suggested.

 “ _Phfft_? What?” Shaking her head, Sofia leaned against the outside of the closest building, fumbling with her travelling pack and rummaging in it. “Fuck… _No..._ I followed him because I was curious, and in case you hadn’t noticed he’s sorta my meal ticket.”

 An eyebrow raised fractionally and was the closest expression to disbelief that Lydia would show.

 “Fine. I didn’t want to be left alone.”

 The eyebrow remained.

 “He owed me a foot rub.”

 Still no change.

 “Fine. I like him. He’s strong, brave, adventurous, good looking if you are into scars…” Seeing the way the trace of a smile plucked at the corners of Lydia’s mouth and realising what she had said, she nearly dropped the bottle that she had retrieved from her pack. “Er… I like him as a friend. He treats me like a person and equally shares the loot…” She hurriedly added.

 For a moment it was almost as though Lydia was going to roll her eyes but instead the flat expressionless gaze returned.

 “Ah… Whatever.” Using the bottle of mead to underline her words, she pointed it at the Housecarl’s chest. “He still owes me a _serious_ foot rub though.”

 “So what are you going to do now?”

 The wall thudded as she plopped her back against it. “Now? Now I’m going to keep following him, find this blowhards horn and then wait for him in the tavern at Ivarstead while he goes up the mountain and sits in the snow. Or sleeps or a rock. Or whatever the Greybeards got him to do for that month he was up there.”

 “I meant now.” Lydia said with the hint of annoyance.

 “Oh. You mean _now_ , now.” She eyed the bottle of mead she managed to ‘acquire’ while Kaius wasn’t looking. “I was contemplating on getting drunk.”

 “To stop the headaches?”

 This time the stare that she afforded the Housecarl was deadly and jagged like a broadhead arrow. “I get drunk because it is fun and I enjoy it. Not because I feel sore or get headaches or whatever else you think. Certainly not because of Ma popping me out in the middle of the summer solstice.”

 Realising that she had said a little too much, she quickly took a massive swig from her bottle and felt better with the taste of mead on the tongue. “Never mind me though, what are _you_ going to do?”

 The silence was deafening and Lydia looked up the street and towards the inn’s front door. Only the rap-tap-tap of her fingers on the head of her axe hanging in its loop of leather at her waist showed any sign of her thoughts.

 “I’m going to go find the Thane.” She said finally.

 “Why?”

 “Because it is my duty.” Their eyes met each other’s for a heartbeat. “And because I think that despite how we feel about _that_ before…” The tiniest of twitches ran down her body. “I think that he is right.”

 “You two really have got being killjoys down to a fine art. You know that right?”

 “Are you coming?”

 “No. Why would I follow you?” Seeing the way that Lydia had actually turned in shock Sofia laughed, startling herself with how loud it echoed in the street. “I’m just kidding of course.”

 Her pack went back over a shoulder and she continued sipping away at her bottle as she stepped alongside Lydia’s steel-clad figure. “Let’s go see what trouble we can stir up.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations: 
> 
> Athiyk, d’l’elghinyrr, voen’llyl ussta lar’e. - "Spirit of the dead, heed my summons" (Drow)  
> Usstan quarth dos ulu ku’lam lu’tlu’guuana - "I command you to rise and awaken" (Drow)
> 
> Also, for those who don't pick up on it; Sofia mention that she was born during the Summer solstice means she was born during Sun's Height, and therefore was born under the Sign of 'The Apprentice'...


	3. Dust to Dust

 This far north meant the nights closed in with abrupt swiftness, and even as they moved to the edges of the town the last remnants of the sun were snuffed out. As easily as blowing out a candle or snapping shut the covers of a lantern the daylight had faded, leaving them moving carefully in the gloom until Sofia managed to ‘acquire’ a lantern from the side of one of the buildings they passed.

 The long night had set in, and while the days were noticeably longer than what they had been during the winter, the all-encompassing darkness seemed to last forever no matter the season. It was especially evident as they made their way past the outer buildings and the heaped earthworks and rows of thick posts laying in neat piles on the ground. Even for a town such a Morthal in its relative isolation from the comings and goings of the rest of the province, steps were being taken to ensure security and safety for its population. Depending on the whims of fate, the potential of a dragon attack or an all-out bloody assault by the Stormcloaks, the palisade that had been born as nothing more than an earthen mound could very well end up as a rampart capped wooden wall. If the civil war lasted as long as some suspected, it could then it could very well end up made of stone by its end.

 It truly was a sign of the times that the handful of lumber mills continued working into the early hours of the night, sawing logs and planks for use in the construction of a palisade. Built into the side of a creek that snaked its way through the northern portion of the town, the mill they walked past was lit with lanterns and occupied by a handful of men and women repairing and maintaining it for another day’s labour.

 Those within didn’t seem to pay much attention to Sofia and Lydia as walked past towards the nearby graveyard. The light from Sofia’s new lantern was partially rendered useless from the number of lanterns and the iron-capped braziers set at the site of Morthal’s future north gate.

 “What a miserable evening this has turned out to be.” Sofia muttered, feeling the chill as clouds finally won the struggle to hide the moon and stars from view. Judging by the reactions of the guards at the gate’s construction site the dim light, rapidly dropping temperature and the thickening fog was a normal occurrence for the town.

 Thickening, the fog covered them and made a mockery of the mists that had greeted them during their arrival. The midday fog was enough to blur the vision and leave the sensation of moisture, but the evening’s one almost felt thick enough to cut with a sword.

 “Where do you think he would be?” She asked, glancing between Lydia and the lantern in her hands as she adjusted the shutters for more light. It wasn’t much of an improvement but it at least let them see the way the graveyard seemed to stretch infinitely into the mist.

 “Searching for the ghost I guess.” Lydia moved along the tiny path between the gravestones, her boots impacting lightly into the soil worn flat by countless feet. “Maybe we should find someone to ask where she was buried?”

 “Sure beats wandering around a graveyard at night.” The sudden chill she had caress her spine had nothing to do with the temperature. “And the sooner we find her the sooner we get to go back to the inn. And mead.”

 “The amount you drink is going to get you killed.”

 “And following Kaius isn’t going to?”

 Lydia returned to her usual silent self at that, and Sofia couldn’t help but grin. _Another point for me._ She thought while completely failing to hide her grin.

 Continuing on, they moved past row after row of gravestones and both soon found themselves wondering just how many were buried here. Whiterun’s Hall of the Dead was dug into the hill that the city was built on, threading several layers deep into the rock but for the most part the locals practices cremation. Partially to save space. Morthal appeared to bury theirs and after so many centuries since it had been founded it had grown and spread until it covered a substantial area. Within the first minute of walking they had come to an unspoken agreement, angling their way deeper into the cemetery and moving towards the centre.

 “We really need to find someone.”

 Other than the jingle of chainmail, and the sounds of their footsteps on the packed soil and the handful of paving stones there was little noise in the growing mist. The lights of the lumber mill were just over a hundred metres away, turning into glowing, indefinite balls that provided little illumination and no ability to discern details.

 Lydia stopped in place, peering through the darkness with narrowed eyes as though she was forcing the fog away with willpower alone. “The gravedigger’s house should be near. We find them, and get them to tell us where Hroggar’s kin were buried.”

 Rolling her neck and stretching her arm holding the oil filled lantern, Sofia nodded. “That’s probably where Kaius is too. Don’t suppose you have any idea where the house is exactly?”

 “If Morthal is anything like Falkreath, then the digger’s quarters will be close to the centre…” her voice trailed off, and she paused in place.

 “What is it?”

 Lydia’s eyes were narrowed ever further, her head turning back and forth very slowly as she listened. There were no crickets, no noise of the creatures of the night and other than their soft breathing and the sounds of their clothing and armour there was total silence.

 “Someone is close by.” She continued turning, looking over the tops of the gravestones surrounding them. “There.”

 Turning and looking in the direction of the Housecarl’s arm, Sofia saw a shadow moving slowly in the night, a shadow that was blending into the darkness but moving against it right at the very edge of their vision. “Is it Kaius?”

 There was nothing but silence from Lydia as she watched the figure pick its way through the tiny paths threading between the grave markers. Sofia lifted the lantern high, flicking the shutters open fully and squinting through the increased light.

 “I don’t think it is.”

 “One way to find out.” Some gravel crunched under her boots as she took a few steps forward, lifting the lantern a little higher and waving with her other hand. “Hey Kaius!”

 The figure stopped in mid movement, and for an uncomfortable second Sofia felt the presence of eyes resting upon her. Whoever it was they were too far away to identify and despite her best efforts it still remained on the very edges of her vision. That was right up until it vanished like it hadn’t existed at all.

 “Um… What?” blinking in confusion, she lowered the lantern down to her side and took a step backwards. There was no trace of anything or anyone in front of them. “Must be just seeing things.”

 Turning back to Lydia, the uncomfortable pricking sensation on the back of her neck increased as she saw the way that the Housecarl was standing. In the time between calling out and turning back around Lydia had unclasped her helm from her belt, pushing it down onto her head and was now dragging her axe from its leather loop.

 “That wasn’t the Thane.” She said as her fighting axe and round shield found their way into her hands.

 “Thank you _Legate Obvious_ , I kinda figured that out for myself.”

 Both of them instinctively began moving closer together, looking in the general direction of the figure while the rasping of metal of metal left their jaws clenched. It did make Sofia feel better at having her sword in hand though.

 “ _I love it when dinner walks right into my arms._ ” The hiss came from their right, making them both twirl in surprise but by the time they had turned there was nothing there.

 “ _So sweet… So succulent…_ ”

 Cackling, the unseen speaker floated around them in the mist, hidden and invisible in the shadows. There was no physical sign of them but the words and the tone were distinctly feminine.

 “Lydia…” barely a whisper, Sofia had to choke the word out and she soon felt the reassuring presence of the plate armoured housecarl only centimetres from her spine.

 “I know. Quiet.”

 “ _Yes. Be quiet. Cattle shouldn’t speak.”_

 Threatening and terrible, there was no mistaking the unnatural aura of dead that was holding them tight, seeping through the pores of their skin in a foul sweat despite the cold. Sofia found herself gripping her broadsword tightly, trying desperately not to think of the way her palms were growing increasingly damp in her gloves. Fighting the fear was strangely easy as after facing a dragon everything else appeared mild in comparison but that wasn’t a state of affairs that she found particularly comfortable with anyway.

 On the very edges of her vision like a shadow refusing to take form, the flitting movement continued drawing her attention. There was something about it that built pressure into the back of her mind similar to Kaius’ magicka but it was not the same as casting a ward, creating a ball of light or even summoning the shades of the dead.

 “Open your lantern.” Lydia hissed between clenched teeth, her set jaw and the glints of eyes the only parts of her flesh that were visible under the spectacle helm.

 Without thinking or hesitating, Sofia flicked the shutters with a thumb, opening the metal slats and letting the light from the burning wick to fully pour out. While it wasn’t much and did little to break the stifling pressure of the night it was enough to suddenly reveal the darkened figure less than five metres away.

 Yelping, Sofia stumbled backwards as the being lunched itself at her. There was a split second’s image of fangs, pallid flesh and burning eyes within the depths of fluttering hood before it was replaced with the interior of a round shield and a fleshy thump.

 Roaring out a Nordic battlecry on the top of her lungs, Lydia immediately went on the offensive. Her shield had smashed right into the humanoid creature in mid leap, stopping it from falling upon Sofia and dropping it to the ground in a head of writhing limbs and hissing pain. As quick as the housecarl was, the creature was far quicker, pressing taloned hands into the ground and springing up as graceful as an acrobat while dodging the hissing axe that sunk into the earth.

 “Sofia! Get it!”

 Snarling and spitting with rage, the vampire twisted and weaved between the two women as they struck and hacked at it. The blackened hood had fallen away from Lydia’s shield bash revealing a woman’s face twisted and foul with an overwhelming thirst. The bones of her face seemed to be pushing out against the confines of its skin, lips peeled back in a grin of the damned and not hiding the fact that both incisors were lengthy and needle sharp.

 “Why fight me?” She hissed, gliding away from the lantern in Sofia’s hand. “Your blood is already mine.”

 “I think not bitch!” the lantern clattered as she placed it on the ground. For a moment her heart skipped a beat as she thought that it was about to topple over or have the wick extinguish itself but it sat in the dirt shining brightly.

 A dagger appeared in one hand, being held in a sturdy, if uneasy grip. It was the first sign that gave both women facing the vampire some comfort. Despite its unnatural strength, speed and abilities it was no trained fighter. On top of that, Sofia found herself grinning manically. Six months of travel with Kaius equated to six months of training with a vampire; one who was a master with a blade and as such her confidence increased considerably.

 It came in swinging and both Lydia and Sofia dropped into their own fighting stances. Lydia, with her massive shield shifted into the defensive, drawing the beast to her with careful footwork and ensuring that the metal rimmed shield was between her and it at all times. Sofia instead moved onto the attack, twisting around and trying to get around to the creature’s side where her broadsword could strike home.

 Within seconds the air was ringing with rippling snarls and the sounds of metal on metal. The knife the vampiress wielded wasn’t much more than a butcher’s blade but with such unholy strength behind the blows Lydia was grunting and shifting backwards with each one. Time and time again it would twist its edge in attempts to get it around Lydia’s defence, only to find the experienced housecarl moving slightly, shifting her bodyweight and deflecting the knife on the metal rim or feeling it bite home into the wood.

 Sofia sliced and stabbed, alternating between one and both hands on her sword and remembering all of the techniques that Kaius had spent the months of travel drumming into her. Against a foe that was stronger, faster and more agile it was useless and almost suicidal to make any attacks that were at all extended from the body. He had taught her to fight close, to stab and slice in short sharp movements that left the blade close and where she could easily roll the wrist into a block or parry of her own. By the time she had managed to close with the vampire she was thankful she had actually listened to someone for once and hadn’t been too drunk to remember his lessons.

 Fabric and cloth ripped as a slice managed to cut part of the robes that billowed like smoke from the writhing vampire. A chunk of hood fluttered lazily into the air as Sofia came within centimetres of cutting ear and scalp but with its characteristic speed it had managed to duck right at the last second.

 “You’re just lucky that I have company so I can’t do unspeakable things to your corpse!”

 Lips like blue-grey leather peeled back over the fangs and highlighting the mottled bruising that was already flaring from Lydia’s shield. Sofia’s taunt struck home and for a split second the vampire’s attention was drawn to her.

 The distraction cost her though, as the flared head of Lydia’s axe chopped down as though she was trying to hew a fallen pine in half. Again the creature’s agility saved it from an attack that would have killed a lesser being but blood was drawn nonetheless. Fabric ripped and tore under the descending axe, and a jagged flesh wound opened in its shoulder that coated the rune etched weapon in black gore.

 “Not so fun now is it?”

 Hunching and clutching its wounded shoulder in its free hand, the female vampire growled, a deep note that could have put fear into a sabrecat. Lydia and Sofia weren’t as affected, taking measured steps forward almost shoulder to shoulder as they stared it down.

 The darkness seemed to reach in and wrap itself around the vampiress and like the minute before. In horror, they realised that they had moved a little too far from the light of the lantern and without its light the vampire could move at will.

 Moving with all the speed of a lightning strike, the rictus grin of the vampiress appeared, unfolding itself from the shadow by Lydia’s side and sinking its claws into the housecarl. She stiffened as the dagger vanished from sight only to reappear a second later sheathed in crimson, and with the talon-like fingernails of its other hand it ripped the shield away. Even the wood and sturdy construction of the shield wasn’t enough to entirely hold the creature’s attack at bay, splinters of wood and peelings of lacquer flicked into the air as a series of parallel grooves appeared on its face.

 “Lydia!?” Sofia spun and hacked her sword at the vampire’s throat, realising almost before she committed to the strike that she was overbalancing herself. Momentarily and fleeting, there was the slightest unease from the creature as it leapt back into the shadows again with the keen edge millimetres away from opening its throat.

 “Get back towards the light!” Forcing the words out, Lydia struggled to raise her shield once more with the streak of blood running down her hip. In her armour a knife could do little more than slip between plates and nick the flesh, but it was enough to slow her down.

 Drawn out and with a mouth unhinging like a snake, the vampiress reappeared directly in front of Lydia as she tried to raise her shield to cover herself from throat to groin. With the pain and the bloodsucker’s proximity she was unable to react fast enough to dodge the open palmed strike that hit her in the chest like a kick from a mule. Even the sound was forceful, making Sofia for a moment feel like she too had been struck as the housecarl was thrown backwards in a clatter of metal.

 Questioning shouts and bouncing lights were quickly making their way through the mists from the direction of the town. Sofia knew that in the best case those coming to investigate the disturbance would be able to save them from the vampire, but in the worst case would be little more than fodder for the beast. Within a heartbeat of Lydia being thrown backwards in a dazed tangle of armour plating she had stepped sideways, moving closer to the lantern and vampire while putting herself between it and the housecarl.

 “Lydia! Get up!” she shouted, fending off a pair of blows from the knife and feeling the wind on her face as a handful of sharpened fingernails only just missed blinding her.

 Unable to turn or see what was happening at her back, she could only dance about on the balls of her feet, twisting and parrying away the creature in the most economical and short movements possible. Kaius had managed to teach her well and all the nights and mornings of training were showing their value. She had nearly managed to break even with Vilkas those months ago when they joined the Companions and now she was able to hold her own against a creature of the night.

 She managed to fend it off just long enough to see the mist break and the jogging figures of sawmill workers and the few armed guards in their chainmail and maces. Only half a dozen or so were rushing to their aid; the others were either too far away or were running about spreading the alarm through the town. Bells were tolling at watch posts and men and women would be arming themselves but it would come far too late to be of any use.

 Flicking the knife away as it sought out her mailed stomach, she found herself completely unprepared as the vampire chose to leap upon her once more. This time, without a shield or the distance to move aside, she felt its full weight slam into her, both hands scrabbling for purchase on the chainmail and brigandine armour she wore over her tunic. Finger sized pieces of metal ripped or popped away from where they had been riveted to the chainmail, and as she jammed her elbow into the vampiress’ throat she could feel a series of links begin to part and give way under its feral strength.

 Shouting and curses of horror and shock rippled around her over the panting and hissing less than a dagger’s width from her face. Her entire vison was filled with the sight of salivating jaws, teeth and fangs gleaming with whiteness and the pale tongue twitching in anticipation of her blood. Despite their comparative weight and how the vampiress was roughly the same size, the unnatural nature of the curse afforded her a much greater strength. It was all she could do to lock out her arm, keeping it up and the drooling maw at bay as those running to her aid drew closer.

 Roaring wordlessly with rage and despair, Sofia could feel her arms giving way as her strength faded. Saliva splattered onto her face in the increasingly desperate pants and snaps of the mouth only centimetres from her neck, the droplets feeling frozen in the night time air. It was the only thing that seemed to keep her focussed in the struggle but she was losing very quickly.

 A sickening crunch suddenly filled the air and the creature’s struggles stopped instantly with the tremor that flowed through its limbs making itself felt to Sofia. The eyes that were once burning with hunger and glowing with an unnatural light suddenly faded, rolling into the back of her skull as the twitches grew more pronounced.

 With the sudden lack of resistance, Sofia rolled her attacker away and spun onto one knee, seeking and looking for anything to use as a weapon. Instead she found herself facing one of the men who had rushed to their aid, a broad shouldered Nord with his hands grasped firmly on the handle of a forester’s axe and tears streaming down his face.

 “By all the gods I am glad to see you all!” Her breath was coming out hard and ragged now as her body finally caught up with the overwhelming adrenaline and it didn’t help when the creature that had come so close to killing her began burning from the head down.

 Heavy and designed for splitting sawn logs into firewood, the axe had done quick, if brutal work of the vampire. Especially when wielded by a man who had obviously spent his entire life hauling logs and working within one of the local sawmills. The axehead was almost completely buried within the skull, chopping through bone and brain with ridiculous ease but Sofia could only stand bewildered as the big man dropped to his knees with a howl of anguish that ripped through the night.

 The looks on the pair of guards and the other two sawmill workers mirrored that of their friend as he knelt over the slain vampire, cradling the remains even as the dissolved in fire. Like all others of its kind, the vampire’s body burned from within until nothing but ash and dust and blacked bones was left inside a pitiful collection of smouldering fabric. Confusion ate away at her just as the flames consumed the vampire, especially when faced with the nord holding the creature he had just killed despite the way his hands were left raw, blistered and bleeding from the heat.

 Lydia staggered to her feet, gasping and wheezing from the vampire’s blow to her chest. The incredible strength of the cursed being had been enough to buckle the breastplate in slightly and Sofia didn’t envy how the housecarl would be feeling. Or looking come to think about it as she was going to have an extremely bruised chest come morning.

 “You okay?”

 Her voice was little more than a pained wheeze. “I feel like I just got kicked by a destrier.”

 Using her fur lined cloak and ignoring the way that grave dirt clung to it from the impromptu wresting bout, she wiped the vampires drool from her face, looking between Lydia and the men who had come to their assistance. “What’s the go with him?” She said simply, nodding in the direction of the weeping nord and staring at one of the guards.

 Instead, the distraught man looked up at her with eyes framed red and tears streaming freely. The pain of his burned hands didn’t seem to register in the slightest. “She’s dead. Laelette is dead.”

 “Laelette?” Lydia hissed, looking between the group of them and dragging her axe from where it had fallen.

 “My wife.” The look of suspicion that Sofia and Lydia cast between him and the others was venomous but it faded at the sight of his grief. “I… I killed her. I thought she had gone to join the Stormcloaks!”

 Another howl of pain ripped from his throat and he doubled over the body, the shuddering breaths he was dragging in puffing up the ashes. One of the other workers stepped forward and lightly rested his hand on the sobbing man’s shoulder, giving him a squeeze while looking almost as distraught and uneasy as he did.

 “Well, looks like she didn’t” The bluntness of the tone was enough that even Lydia shot her a darkened expression. “What? It’s true! She was a vampire!”

 “What the hell was she doing out here then?” One of the guards spluttered, looking about the darkness and peering about with the burning torch he had brought with him.

 His fellow guardsman hissed. “A better question is how and why was she a vampire?”

 “You.” Sofia walked over and nudged the crying nord with her toe. “What’s your name?”

 Through the shuddering breaths, he looked up at her again. “Thonnir.”

 “Well Thonnir. What can you tell us about this bit- Your wife? Did you notice anything strange about her before she disappeared?”

 Like a beached fish his mouth opened and closed, eyes darting between the burned remains, Sofia and those who had come up with him. “I… I don’t know. She began to spend a lot of time with Alva. Yet just a week before, she despised her. In fact, the night she disappeared, she was supposed to meet Alva.”

 “Oh… Fuck…” Sofia breathed, mouth opening and the now all too familiar sensation of fear turning her guts to ice.

 “Yeah.” With a voice as cold as the night Lydia grimaced at the thought. “Alva...”

 “No…” her arm lifted and she pointed in the direction of the town where the bells were screaming their chorus of alarm into the sky. “Fuck...”

 The guards, Thonnir’s friends and Lydia turned to where Sofia was pointing, and there was a collective gasp of astonishment at the sight of another pair of individuals moving towards them from the town. At first glance there was nothing untoward about the two of them, until they saw the strange ruby like glow burning in one of the sets of eyes.

 Instinctively shying away from the newcomers, there was a shuffling of feet and both guards dragged their maces from their belts. A man with solid shoulders and taller than the others by a few centimetres strode towards their collection of lights at the heel of a woman who was significantly underdressed for the climate. A long flowing dress of silks and furs clung to her frame with every step, streaming from her with every step like smoke. The cut of the dress and the way it flowed left very little to the imagination and while this would normally have been enough to draw attention, there was no mistaking the way her eyes burned with a similar hunger that had been in Laelette’s.

 Stepping over grave plots and around tombstones she moved with a sublime grace, appearing to effortlessly float across the ground almost as though she was walking slightly above its surface. Every movement was perfect and pronounced, from the sway of her hips to the way her legs slightly crossed over each other with each step she was alluring, mesmerising and yet sent fear into the minds of everyone who gazed upon her.

 “Alva.” Dragging the word from his throat with some unease, one of the guards stepped forward hesitantly with his mace held in a shaky grip. There may have been doubt before, but her appearance before them there was none remaining. Like the late Laelette, she too was cursed.

 “By the authority of Jarl Ravencrone, stop there Alva!” he spared a glance to the man standing at her back who seemed to be staring off into his own world. “You too Hroggar!”

 Sofia groaned, moving over towards Lydia who was standing with her free hand pressed into her chest. “Oh, we’re in deep shit.”

 All the housecarl could do was nod, flexing her grip on her axe and shaking the tension out of her arm.

 Like burning coals, Alva’s glowing eyes turned and looked at the guard and the weapon he held in his hand. Little more than a wooden club studded with metal bands it was used more for ensuring compliance with prisoners and wasn’t much use against a creature infected with darkness.

 “How quaint. It seems you have managed to put Laelette out of her misery.” The eyes passed over each of them in turn and the power of the creature in front of them was obviously greater than that of the recently slain Laelette. “Good for you.”

 “I said stop!” injecting what little force and authority he could into his voice, the guard stepped forward with the mace raised threateningly but Alva simply stopped him with a glance. The lights in the depths of her eyes burned intensely for a heartbeat and the mace clattered to the ground with the guard frozen in place.

 “Looks like I’ll be feeding well tonight, wouldn’t you say so husband?”

 Hroggar’s expression was all but blank except for the stupefied grin of devotion and adoration of the vampiress. “Yes my love.”

 “We best be quick though. Won’t be long before others arrive.” One step at a time she moved closer, gliding over the ground and Sofia found herself unable to do anything but stare at her. All strength and control had been lost to Alva’s overwhelming willpower and the sudden reddish stream of magicka that flowed from her fingertips, swirling over everyone in the group and soaking through their skin. They were all affected, even Thonnir who whipped around when she got close with a grip on his axe. He too was forced to stop in mid motion, a look of terror suddenly etched into his features.

 “Well, aren’t you the pretty one.” Sniffing the air as she moved closer, Alva’s eyes roamed over Sofia with a look of someone appraising an expensive piece of jewellery, or a fine cut of meat. “I bet all the men chase after you.”

 Unable to move, neither she nor Lydia were able to do anything as she moved in the group, all the while relishing her power over mortals. Following dutifully in her footsteps like a loyal hound, Hroggar was collecting the weapons one at a time, stowing them in the leather pack slung over his shoulder.

 Unlike the others, Lydia’s grip on her axe had not lessened and was still grasped firmly. For several seconds Hroggar struggled to pry her fingers open, finally resorting to move one at a time until the axe clattered to the ground.

 “Now, time to be good little sheep and follow your shepherd.” Alva’s voice was seductive and alluring and when combined with her corrupt will and vampiric powers there was no real defence.

 “How about they stay here instead?”

 Overwhelming like a storm rolling in off the sea of ghosts, both Lydia and Sofia would have sagged with relief if they had control over their own bodies. Instead Alva and Hroggar shifted in place, looking curiously at the newest arrivals coming from deeper in the graveyard. Kaius’ voice was an extremely welcome sound to his two travelling companions, but the man he was with remained utterly silent.

 “You…” Her words were little more than a hiss of anger as her fangs slid further out of her gums and split her face into a mask of savagery. “I know what you are. This town is ours…”

 “I don’t think so.” Threateningly, the sound of his armour creaking as he folded his arms was audible to them all. “I’m not going anywhere, neither are they.” With a simple gesture to Alva and Hroggar he smiled. “You two however are going to the afterlife.”

 Appearing as though conjured, a dagger appeared in Alva’s hand and the point of it pressed into the flesh under Sofia’s jaw. She may have been holding the dagger in a hand held like a wine connoisseur holding a glass but there was no mistaking her unnatural strength as she lifted Sofia’s head.

 “Really?” The eyes burned into Sofia’s own for a moment and she had a strange fluttering sensation. “This one belongs to you. Are you going to risk her death to stop me?”

 Kaius snorted. “There’s no risk involved.”

 The distance between them was over twenty metres, and even with his own vampiric abilities Sofia doubted he could move fast enough to stop Alva from cutting her throat with the dagger. Already it was pushing hard enough to draw a tiny bead of blood that trickled down and under her collar. “You can’t possibly hope to get to me in time to save her. What do you say about that?”

 The predatory grin that Sofia had seen several times over the previous months reappeared, framed in his hood. In the darkness there was no possible way that any of them could see the way his eyes began darkening until there was nothing left but shadow. Slowly he uncrossed his arms and placed them by his sides, fingers clenching and unclenching.

 “What do I have to say?” he said, the hints of teeth visible in the flickering light of torches and lanterns. “Just this.”

 “ ** _WULD!_** ”

 In a heartbeat, Alva went from standing with an expression of smug superiority on her face to simply vanishing. The dagger against Sofia’s throat vanished as well, the point scouring a red line across her throat as the wielder was suddenly and abruptly ripped from view. Little more than a scratch from a fingernail and now that the invasive willpower of the vampire was gone, Sofia was left grasping at her throat and the others sagging with relief.

 With the power of the Thu’um infusing the tackle, Alva was hit with a force comparable to that of a projectile flung from a trebuchet. Only her vampiric nature ensured her initial survival; the curse imbuing her with strength and resilience far greater than that of a mortal. However, being hit by a hundred and twenty kilograms of muscle and metal, especially when Kaius dropped his shoulder into the charge ensured that she was left with a sternum turned into fragments, ribs almost turned to powder and lungs shredded from the impact. She had been thrown six metres away from Sofia and through a pair of gravestones, sprawled on top of the slight rise of a grave and feeling Kaius’ full weight on top of her.

 Bloody froth bubbled from between her lips and over her lengthened incisors and she tried desperately to drag air into her lungs. Even from several metres away it was obvious how her chest had been caved in from the impact of Kaius’ shoulder but despite the terrible damage that would have killed a lesser being she was struggling against him. Razored fingernails swiped at his face, a hand digging into his throat in the attempt to strangle him but he seemed to completely ignore her. Almost as though he had all the time in the world, he simply slapped her trembling arms away, covering her bloody mouth with a gloved hand and pressing her head flat into the grave. His face was grim, almost expressionless as he simply drew his dagger and casually pushed it into an eye.

 It took less than three seconds for the vampiress to die and begin burning from the bloody hole that was her eye. A terrible, almost inhuman sound ripped from Hroggar’s throat as he saw the emotionless, sudden death of his mistress, the bag of weapons he was carrying forgotten as he went to charge Kaius. While he had been the first to react to the situation, Lydia was the second. Before he could move, react or realise what was happening she had snatched her axe of his hand, grabbing a fistful of shirt and slamming her helmed head onto the bridge of his nose, breaking it in a wash of blood.

 “I’m glad to see all that time you spent on the mountain is paying off.” Sofia said, the sarcasm being drowned in the relief at his appearance “You took your time showing up.”

 Kaius rose from Alva’s immolating corpse, dusting off the powdered tombstones, grave dirt and vampire dust. “I was otherwise indisposed.”

 He moved over, ignoring the amazed looks and the half-heard whispers of ‘ _Dragonborn’_ from the locals. The man who he had come with had moved over to their group less magically, walking along the paths and taking care not to step on or over the graves. Unlike the others he was dressed in long flowing robes, arcane sigils and runes sewn, stencilled or otherwise marking the entire length. His cowl was pulled back further than Kaius’ that revealed a middle aged, but stern expression of Redguard ancestry.

 With a simple gesture he motioned between his travelling companions and the Redguard who he had come with. “Sofia, Lydia? Meet Falion. Falion, Sofia and Lydia. He's been helping me with investigating the fire rune.”

 Relief was fighting a somewhat losing battle against the waves of adrenaline that were battering against her, and she sagged over, holding her knees.

 “You okay?”

 Waving him off while she continued sucking in deep breaths she looked at him from the corner of her eye. “Yeah. If you ignore the way that I nearly got my face bitten off and throat cut by a pair of vampires.”

 “Um…” One of the guards had moved over to them, making a gesture to Hroggar who was lolling drunkenly on his knees in front of Lydia. The only reason why he was still remaining upright was her iron grip on the front of his shirt. “What do we do about him?”

 Kaius turned, taking a careful look at the man with his face covered with blood and nose crushed horribly. He was barely conscious from the vicious headbutt from the housecarl. “There’s not much you can do I’m afraid. If the vampire’s influence was broken sooner there would have been a chance, but now…”

 “So there’s no way to cure him…” As the guard who had stepped forward to face Alva he didn’t seem to have any lack of courage, but the uncertainty of the situation left him unable to decide how to refer to Kaius. In the end he simply chose the ubiquitous ‘ _Sir’._

 Sadly, Kaius shook his head and appeared downright sorrowful despite the resolution in his eye. “Unfortunately no. He’s too far gone.”

 “Well… I suppose the Jarl will have to decide what to do with him.” Between him and his comrade, the two of them moved over and gripped the insensible, bloodied man by the shoulders. “The town owes you all a lot of gratitude.”

 “If only it was truly over.” Despite how quiet Kaius’ voice was pitched it left them all feeling the tickle of fear and their guts turning to ice.

 “It isn’t my Thane?”

 Very slowly and carefully he shook his head. “No. It isn’t.”

 As the guards dragged the mostly insensible Hroggar away, Kaius and Falion lead them further into the cemetery. The fog was thickening and by now more people from the town were gathering, making their way towards the sound of the disturbance. Most were armed, and the majority of them were the local guard thinking it was an attack by Stormcloaks but they were left behind in the darkness as they converged on the sight of the fight. In the small group they passed by the gravedigger’s house and only stopping as they came to a pair of fresh graves on the far side.

 The gravedigger was there, leaning against his shovel and looking thoroughly bored at the group as they appeared. His lantern illuminated the lined expression of someone who had spent the majority of his life dealing with those who were dead. It was this experience that allowed him to stand there without the slightest hint of shock or unease at the tiny figure sitting with her legs dangling in a recently unearthed grave, silently kicking them back and forth while appearing as insubstantial as the mist around them. He had seen much in his decades of caring for the dead, and Helgi wasn’t the first restless spirit that he had encountered.

 “ _Hello Kaius._ ” She said as they approached, smiling with all the innocence of the youth that had been stolen from her.

 “Hello Helgi.” Stepping around the overturned gravestone that had been knocked over in the process of unearthing the grave, he returned her smile.

 “ _Did you dig her up?_ ” So shocked was Lydia that she missed addressing Kaius as Thane, instead stopping in midstep at the sight of the ghost and the tiny, child sized coffin unearthed in the bottom of the pit.

 Helgi shook her head and looked between Lydia, Sofia and the pair of horrified sawmill workers who had followed them. Thonnir was one of them, his axe held in shaking hands and eyes swollen from grief but slowly being consumed by rage. “ _Laelette had found me first._ ” The tiny voice was tinged with sadness as she looked down into the blackened pit her feet were being swallowed up in. “ _She was told to burn mommy and me, but she didn’t want to. She wanted to play with me forever and ever._ ”

 Moving over to the grave, Kaius sat down next to the spectre and his eyes were hard as diamonds in the dim light. “She set the fire rune and when Erisena went to stoke the fire she triggered it.”

 There was a tiny nod from Helgi and she turned back to look down into her grave. “ _Laelette was there. She kissed me on the neck, and I got so cold that fire didn’t even hurt. She thought she could take me and keep me, but she can’t. I’m all burned up._ ”

 All of them could feel the tears staining their cheeks, and both women were clenching and unclenching their jaws in an effort not to weep. Behind them, Thonnir’s grief had turned to a dark rage that left him trembling, running his fingers down the edge of his axe and staining their tips black with his wife’s ashes. Even Kaius, normally so stoic and as unyielding as the Throat of the World was shuddering in an effort to control his emotions.

 Hair floated in ethereal wind and Helgi turned and looked at the armoured figure sitting by her side. “ _There are more._ ”

 “I know.”

 “ _Will you stop them?_ ”

 Chewing on his lips, Kaius nodded. “I will.”

 For a moment she paused, tilting her head as though listening to something that only she could hear. “ _Thank you. Mother feels better knowing you are here to help everyone. She says that your children are proud of you._ ”

 There was no mistaking the sudden surge of emotion that choked Kaius and his fingers dug deep into the ground by his sides. Sofia especially felt uneasy not only at the ghost’s words but the way that the tiny hand, wreathed in blue-grey ghostlight moved and came to rest on top of Kaius’.

 “ _I’m tired._ ” There was a tiny pat-pat of a spectral hand on top of his thick leather gloves and Helgi turned to smile at them all. “ _I’m going to sleep for a while now._ ”

 “That’s okay.” Somehow with a supreme effort of will Kaius managed to keep his voice from wavering as looked at the ghost. “We’re going to take care of everything.”

 Like the smoke rising off a campfire, the wraith of the young girl faded, dissipating and the faint glow first flickered and softly vanished like the last rays of light before the sun slipped below the horizon.

 “ _Xal dosst quortek ul’plyr Aetherius_ _…_ ” he whispered softly as Helgi faded away.

 Very, very carefully he rose to his feet, looking into the open grave and struggling to remain calm. Of all the battles he had fought in his long life it was obvious that the emotional turmoil was one of the hardest he had fought.

 “Can… Can someone help me with this?”

 “I’ll help.” Sofia said softly, and she saw his nodded thanks as he carefully dropped down into the open grave. Laelette had used her vampiric strength to claw and shovel the loosely packed dirt of the grave away to unearth the coffin within, and Sofia saw that she had gone to great lengths to do so. The lid was ajar, resting against the side of the roughly hewn hole and she didn’t want her eyes to linger on the tiny blackened figure resting within the wooden box. The struggle against the river of tears was one she had managed to reach a stalemate with but there was a dribble rather than a torrent as she and Kaius managed to place the lid back and shift the coffin to where it belonged.

 The hours of the night were a blur, half seen images and indeterminable sounds struggling for domination that their minds struggled to hold onto. They had spent several hours refurbishing the grave, using their hands, boots and the gravedigger’s shovel to return the soil on top of the coffin and the pitiful remains it contained. Both Alva’s and Laelette’s remains were buried as well, but only after Kaius and Falion ensured with a handful of spells and incantations that there were was no corruption left in the burnt remains. Thonnir had vanished briefly after they buried his wife that he had long since considered lost. A wife that was now dead by his hand. The grief would break and pass with time but for those long hours of darkness he worked and stood in silence, eyes red and wet with tears until there were no more left.

 At some point during the night, shortly after the guard rang the all-clear Jarl Ravencrone appeared, moving slowly due to her age through the night surrounded by a handful of her guards. With her personal bodyguard by her side she listened to stories told by those who had seen what had happened, face grim and foreboding. It had not taken long to come to decisions. Kaius, Sofia and Lydia were lauded as heroes for uncovering the plot but they were also tasked with finishing the job. Several dozen locals had volunteered to help at the proclamation but the stories that were quickly travelling through the local populace ensured that not many hung around for too long.

 

* * *

 

The mist clung close to the ground, covering the land in a blanket of chill and deadening all sound within. It rolled and heaved, swirling with clutching tendrils within its ethereal mass. What light managed to pierce the grey-clad depths left whispering beams that turned the air into the hints of rainbows. Peaceful and serene, it was broken only by the tiny movements within.

 The sun was rising, the wolf dawn filtering slowly through the mists and caressing the handful of individuals who stood in its depths. They stood in a semicircle, facing inwards at the single individual who stood before the disturbed pile of earth at his feet. Nothing could be heard but the far off cry of birds awakening to a new day in the marshes and bogs and the soft muttering of the group.

 Stepping away from the grave, the robed priest of Arkay bowed slightly, pressing the small collection of beads and symbol of his god to his lips and turning to one of the others. The rites were completed, the grave was reconsecrated and his duties were completed once more. For those standing nearby, watching him as he conducted the ritual their duty was beginning.

 Kaius moved over to the grave, fumbling with his armour for a moment before resting his hand on top of the rectangular tombstone resting at the head of the grave. From the heart of the town the echo of wood banging reached their ears and while they couldn’t see it from their position in the graveyard, the crowd facing the gallows in the town square watched impassively. The figure dangling through the opened trapdoor in the platform writhed and twitched for a few minutes before finally ceasing all movement.

 In the graveyard there was nothing but silence and expectation. They all remained quiet as Kaius looked down on the grave and the other resting close alongside it. The gravedigger was already hard at work, spearing his shovel into the earth and scooping it into a heap as he dug a third grave alongside the other two. Broken apart in life, the family would now be united in death.

 With eyes wet with tears and darkened with sadness, those watching him were able to see the shift in his emotions as he turned to face them. The tears would take time to dry, the redness of the eyes to fade and the deep shadows under them to vanish but there was determination in them now.

 The scrape of metal echoed through the thinning mists as he drew his blade partially from the scabbard, testing the edge of the skyforge steel with a gloved thumb. Satisfied, he looked over those facing him with a scowl of building anger.

 Out of the dozens who had volunteered, only a few remained. Sofia; eyes hooded, but bright and completely sober. Lydia; standing favouring one leg from the minor wound on her hip and axe sharpened and ready. Falion; a bag at his hip filled with scrolls and a new set of robes that seemed to faintly glow with energies. The gigantic orc bard from the Moorside inn; a weighty axe from his homeland hanging by his hip and chest covered with an orichalcum breastplate. Thonnir; a suit of mail dragged over his torso and the forester’s axe he had used to put down his late wife slung over a shoulder. There were only a couple of others; a collection of guardsmen and a few of Thonnir’s friends who had come to support their friend but they all were looking and waiting for Kaius.

 “Let’s go hunt some vampires.” He said, seeing the determination in their eyes as they began following in his footsteps.

 Behind them, resting on top of the grave marker an ancient amulet of Talos sat, slowly beginning to gleam with wetness as the morning mist clung to the sword shaped pendant. Its weathered, handmade leather loop hung down, swaying lightly in the breeze as though caressed by an invisible hand while it began its silent vigil over the graves of a young girl and her family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Xal dosst quortek ul’plyr Aetherius… - "May your soul reach Aetherius" (Drow & Common)


End file.
